Opposites Attract
by hahailoveaxelmorethanyou
Summary: All I gotta say is that this was all Jerry's idea. I'm just here to show you he's a beginner in writing. The bold italicized is Josef's point of view, and the italisized only is Markel's. Jerry's just writing a story based on an inspiration: Book Thief.:


The rainy days of Berlin trapped every German inside his house. It kept every neglected child behind the bars of an orphanage. And it made two lies fall fast asleep, each lying upon a bony bed, but separated by at least a twenty mile distance. One slept with the thoughts of a future religion, as the other slept with the command of nightmares. Their filthy five year old heads rested among a different pillow, with different actors playing the role of an adopting parent; their cold air had its own tension, but one thing was kept in common for both of them: each felt half dead.

Thirteen years later, it was 1941.

Berlin pondered the streets with propaganda in their heads, and a hypnotic smile, only created by a charismatic speech. The foggy spirit of another day awoke one of the lies, as he opened his turquoise eyes only to be despised by the public. He stood up from his thirteen year old bony bed, and gazed at his rusted self in the mirror, just to pin the Star of David onto the top left corner of his coat. Memories of a mother's desired dream, and a haunting jab staggered his heart.

* * *

"Now Josef, as your mama I want you to respect the Jewish faith. Understood?"

"Yes Gretel."

"Don't call me Gretel. I am your new mama, so you shall call me 'Mama.' Understood?"

"Yes Mama."

"Good boy. I assure you that you will quickly accustom yourself here at your new home."

Silence.

"Hmm, you seem quieter than the time I saw you running around with the other children in the playground."

* * *

Playground? What in the name of Adolf Hitler was she talking about? Josef never came in contact with any children at all, except a boy his age, Raimund from the orphanage. He was the only one that shared a few words with him even though he was anti-Semitic. Yet friendship grew into curiosity, and the two boys dared to do something no German would have thought moral back then.

They switched religions.

Just for a day.

Josef marched in Berlin's muddy streets and forced his strong voice to Heil Hiter, while Raimund sat on some steps reading page thirty two of the Torah.

Never in those first five years of his life did Josef place foot in a playground.

_**That woman was insane to end with. She thought that suicide was calling her name. Of course, so just abandon the child at the age of nine while he was still learning the prayers of a Jew, right? **_--he snickered mentally.

"Josef! Quickly, I heard that there was another burning of a synagogue down on Samton Street. We must head to northern Berlin!"

"But my mother handed her home to me. I can't just leave it, Raimund."

"Oh really? So she can abandon you after four years of adoption, but you can't leave anything of hers behind, right?"

He got you there, Josef.

"For your information, my mother loved me."

"Of course. So why not respect her faith and pray for her in the synagogue in _northern_ Berlin."

Stomped by the words of his childhood's best friend, he had no choice, but to allow his feet to walk themselves onward and upward towards the synagogue in northern Berlin.

Surely enough, the racket in which Josef reluctantly walked in, created such a high volume of noise that it was impossible to hear Albert Colditz's blending, scolding words.

"HEIL HITLER!"

"Heil Hitler…"

"WHAT? I CAN'T HEAR YOU!"

"HEIL HITLER!"

"Excellent, Markel. You'll make a fine Nazi in the future."

Don't tell me, Albert, you adopted a child, just to bring Hitler youth to this world.

"With those cobalt eyes, and those fine strands of bland yellow hair, son, you'll make your fellow Nazis proud. Now, your troopers are waiting for you somewhere north of Berlin for the burning of that bloody synagogue. You must go."

Yes, but Albert, what happens if your fake flesh and blood doesn't support killing Jews for amusement?

"What's the matter with you? The first time I saw you in the streets you heiled Hitler like it was your whole life. You didn't lose enthusiasm, now did you?"

_Enthusiasm? For heiling Hitler like no person in their right mind thinks is reasonable to? When did I become dim-witted enough to do that? No, a right-minded child at the age of nine would distract himself from such propaganda. Wasn't it almost _necessary_ for one to go to a playground_? --Markel wanted to blurt out and say.

Ah, but no worries, let's just keep the reply simple and to the point.

A nod of the head will do nicely.

"Splendid! Therefore, from now on, I'd like to hear you project your voice even louder, and heil Hitler like you mean it! Do you comprehend, Mister Nazi-in-Training?"

"Yes sir."

"Go on now. Your troopers are waiting for you there."

No response.

"HEIL HITLER!"

"HEIL HITLER!"

_I feel half-dead...._

Isn't it just amazing to see your father, not even your father, but a complete stranger, smile at you proudly at the nightmares you heil in public?

Public…

Speaking of which, the public was one of the many dangers Josef and Raimund constantly hid from. Josef covered his face because of the Star of David on his top left corner, and Raimund because of his loyalty to that Star of David. The synagogue that this loyal companion had found must've been a miracle of God to still be standing. Most of them around this time have been burned.

The racket in which these men have encountered dramatically reduced its volume by seventy five percent. This could only mean one thing.

"Are we here?"

"Are those blue eyes of yours blind, Josef? I swear, you'll camouflage with your enemies, even if you are brainless enough. YES WE ARE HERE."

"What happens if…you know? _They_ come?"

"I'll keep watch outside, although personally myself, I don't think they will come."

This was his cue, and Josef stepped foot into the synagogue. It's been so long. After his mother's death, you'd think he would continue attending services. Well, now was the time for a prayer, a bench, and getting quietly down on your knees. You don't find sanctuary like this anymore.

Do you?

Why do I ask?

I don't know about you, but the sound of boots is thudding in my head.

It's getting louder.

And louder.

And louder.

"HEIL HITLER!"

"HEIL HITLER!"

Deep voices with evil words are the worst combination of destruction.

"Josef, they're here! Let us flee at once!"

It was a smart move to stop praying automatically, but it was a dumb one to stutter, trip, and fall at the feet of your enemy.

Even if your enemy looks a lot like you.

And has an arm pointing to your head.

"JOSEF! Get up!"

How could he when his short, pathetic life seemed to be flashing before his eyes?

"Sir, please. Don't shoot. For the sake of Hitler DON'T SHOOT!"

Sad to say that pleading just makes it worse, Josef…

Tears began to swell up quickly and rapidly, that one could've thought those blue eyes of his looked like oceans. The Nazi-in-Training felt such inner mercy for this Jew, that it caused his hands to react even more hostile. He placed aggressive emphasis on his rifle, while directing it closer to the Jew's head. In return, the Jew's kippah slipped off, exposing tangled, lemon hair.

_How odd…A Jew with blonde hair. Albert would be laughing at what I'm viewing right now. _Markel silently inhaled deeply, as his finger motioned steadiness towards the trigger. Death was only a few feet away from knocking on this Jew's door.

"NO! PLEASE! I LOST EVERYONE I EVER HAD! EVEN MYSELF! YOU'LL JUST BE SHOOTING SKIN AND BONES! PLEASE! I'M ALREADY HALF-DEAD!"

_Half dead…?_

At that moment, intensity was the word for everything: the silence; the solitude; and the fact that this particular Jew looked up at him with his weeping, azure eyes.

_This is…impossible._

The echoing of Heil Hitler departed the scene, but the smell of burning cement arrived near the surface. Everyone had already ran or marched out of the temple.

He dropped his weaponry at once, ignoring the fact that smoke licked his fingers, "Who _are _you?"

In response, the Jew stood up, coughing from the ashes tickling his lungs. Then it was the sound of two, choking on the smoke-infested air. The two seemed to be suffocating from the fire's odor, until they both realized what was really standing in the temple:

There was a Jew and his mirror, dying in a fire.


End file.
